


May/December

by alouette_des_champs



Series: The Brunch Club [1]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Engagement, F/M, Face-Sitting, Light BDSM, Like super light, Porn with Feelings, SCIENCE!, Scent Kink, Sexual Content, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-14 04:30:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16906134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alouette_des_champs/pseuds/alouette_des_champs
Summary: How do you fall in love when you don't have forever?





	May/December

**Author's Note:**

> Hey ya'll, it's porn bracketed by brunch, some incredibly vague musings on the horrors of the human aging process, and some flashbacks about science.

Realistically speaking, Barry wasn’t _that_ much older than his fiancée. 

It was a twenty year age gap, give or take a few years. Twenty years looked like a lot on paper, but they were both adults—it wasn’t as if he was hanging out around the freshman dorms waiting for spring break to start. Lup was in her thirties, old enough to make her own choices, but sometimes he thought with a twinge that she had been learning how to talk around the same time he had given his valedictorian speech at his high school graduation. Their friends teased him about it all the time; he laughed off their “dirty old man” jokes good-naturedly, but he often worried that he was cheating her out of something, out of being with someone her own age, out of experiences that he had already had and life stages that he had already lived through. He was going to get old long before she did; his body was already starting to creak in vaguely ominous ways. It hadn’t happened yet, but someday, maybe sooner than he was comfortable with, he worried that he would no longer be able to keep up with her, physically, sexually, socially, professionally…

Lup didn’t seem to mind, or even to think about the subject at all without prompting. When he complained about finding grey hairs, she would run her fingers through his hair and call him _her silver fox._ When his back hurt from sitting in the lab all day, she would put heat patches on it for him in the places he couldn’t reach. She thought it was cute when he fell asleep on the couch at 9pm like someone’s grandpa. She Snapchatted videos of his snoring to their friends. Even more damning, she knew what Snapchat was and how to use it in the first place.

The first time they had met, _he had been frantically flushing his eyes in the lab’s eyewash, having just gotten a faceful of some very questionable chemicals. He had heard loud, clear laughter from across the room, a woman’s laugh, unfamiliar. Once he had blinked the water out of his eyes and put his glasses back on, he’d seen his boss standing in the doorway with an unfamiliar woman in a lab coat, biting her knuckle to hold back her hysterics at his misfortune. It hadn’t been relevant at the time, but those chemicals would have had to blind him in both eyes for him not to notice that she was incredibly beautiful, with adorably crooked front teeth and eyes that turned the color of absinthe when the sun hit them in the right way._

_“Barry, this is your new postdoc,” his boss had said drily, already on his way out the door._

_“Oh. Yeah. I just. Hold on a minute.” He’d dried his face on a towel one of his research associates handed to him and expended a hand to her. “I’m Barry, the lead researcher on the study.”_

_“Lup,” she’d said, shaking his hand, still grinning. She jerked her chin at the eyewash. “How often do you have to do that whole song and dance, boss?”_

_“Way too often. And I’m not your boss. I’ll have someone show you around.”_ In that moment, it had been impossible to imagine that less than ten years later he would be engaged to the same woman, sharing a bed and a bank account and a life. It certainly hadn’t happened all at once, or without complication, or thoughtlessly on either of their parts. That was what he tried to tell himself when he spent too much time worrying about it: all of this was supposed to happen just like it did.

Sunday brunch with Lup’s twin brother and his conspicuously age-appropriate boyfriend was a tradition. This week, it was Taako’s turn to pick the restaurant; he always made them all go downtown, to the minimalist weekend pop-ups that served experimental dishes and very strong mimosas. Taako and Kravitz always fit in at those types of places. They looked like they had stepped off the cover of a very gay issue of _GQ._ Vegan leather, edgy haircuts, well-tailored jackets… Meanwhile, Barry was always a little afraid that he and Lup looked like someone’s confused parents visiting from the suburbs. There wasn’t a self-conscious bone in her body, of course, but he could overthink enough for the both of them. As was custom, Barry and Kravitz sat mostly silently across from one another, occasionally sharing a bemused look or passing the salt, while the twins talked. Somehow, they had perfected the art of listening to what the other one was saying while simultaneously constantly talking over one another. Half of the conversation was held in inside jokes and incomprehensible shorthand that Barry had long since given up trying to decipher.

Barry and Lup didn’t drink much, but as usual, Taako had to be practically carried out to the Uber. In the past, with some of his less savory boyfriends, Lup would have insisted that they take him home so that she could put him to bed herself, but Krav was a lot more trustworthy. Lup gave him a salute and a gleeful _good luck with that_ on her way past. In the car on the way home, she said some very risqué things for someone who had just eaten as many Danish pancake puffs as she had, her hand inching up his inseam in a way he would have appreciated very much if he hadn’t been trying to navigate Sunday afternoon traffic. He took her hand in his, kissed her knuckles, and held it in his lap, pleasantly warm but not as distracting. There was a whole Sunday left for them to get up to whatever she wanted without the fear of getting t-boned by an old lady in a Volkswagen, and make no mistake about it—Lup always got what she wanted, one way or another.

She caught him at the kitchen sink, filling up the coffee pot with water. When he turned around to address her, she made her move. Winding her arms around his neck, she buried her nose in his neck and inhaled, moving down to his collar, nails scratching in the short hair at the base of his skull. Sometimes he wondered what had ever attracted her to him in the first place. Barry had never been a small man, but as he’d aged, he had gone soft around the middle, not quite as sharp around the jaw, lost the muscle tone in his arms. He had an okay face; it didn’t scare children or stop traffic. He still had all his hair, at least. There was nothing wrong with him, but there wasn’t all that much right with him, either. Nevertheless, Lup never missed an opportunity to express exactly how much she appreciated the sum of all his mediocre parts, and while he would never understand it, he could, at least, appreciate it.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he said, putting the coffee pot down carefully on the counter. “But I’m not sure what it is about my _eau de toilette_ that you’re enjoying so much.” She hummed against his throat as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him. She herself smelled like syrup and orange juice and the loud floral perfume that she liked to use too much of. Lup was overwhelming in nearly every way a person could be overwhelming. Even after all the time they had spent together, simple proximity to her was a sensory overload, and if she had been anyone else, anyone he trusted less fully, he would have been embarrassed by how easily she could turn him on.

“You know I love the way you smell.” The rasp in her voice quickened his pulse. She dragged her lips over the shell of his ear, pressing her nose into the hair at his temple.

“Is this one of those pheromone things? I read an article somewhere that said you can tell who you’re going to want to sleep with based on smelling their sweaty laundry. Or something like that.” She giggled, pulling back to look at him.

“Yeah, that checks out. I think I could pick your laundry out of a lineup. I’ll start writing up the funding proposal for our sex-laundry-sniffing study.” She kissed him deeply, sliding her hand between them to press her palm against the increasingly prominent outline of his cock through his pants. He made a gruff noise of satisfaction into her mouth and grabbed a handful of her ass, kneading it a little roughly.

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days,” Barry gasped when she finally broke the kiss. 

“Poor old man,” she teased, mock-pouting at him. “Fucked to death by his hot young assistant.”

“Oh, I thought _you_ were going to have sex with me…where’s my hot young assistant hiding?” He looked around, peering over the top of her head.

“I’m two out of three, at least, and if you ask me which two, I will tear your jugular out with my teeth right now.” Her teeth grazed his pulse. He chuckled. Lup pulled back to look at him, smiled devilishly, stuck her tongue out, and touched it to the tip of his nose. He made an exaggerated noise of horror and wiped at his nose.

“That’s it.” Bending his knees, he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off her feet. She squealed in protest, clutching at his shoulders for purchase.

“You’re gonna throw out your back!” Barry spun around and plopped her down on the kitchen counter. Her shoes clunked against the wood of the cabinet and then hit the floor with a clatter.

“I’m not that old, _hot young assistant._ ” She wrapped her legs around his hips and used her feet to pull him closer, eagerly sealing her mouth around his and locking her arms around his neck. Her skirt rode up around her waist; denim rasped against lace as he thrust his trapped erection against her panties. He could feel the heat of her through two layers of fabric. She broke the kiss and tilted her head to one side, an obvious request. He swept her hair away from her neck and pressed his open mouth to the delicate skin there, sucking gently, just skimming with his teeth. She breathed in sharply, her legs tightening around him.

When he pulled back to look at her face, she asked, “Can I sit on your face?” _That grin._ She had always been so bold. She had been the one to make the first move, _late night in the lab after everyone else had gone home. They had both been typing up notes last-minute, sharing a pot of day-old coffee, when she had leaned across the desk without warning and kissed him. He had stared at her in shock, speechless, his finger still pressing down on the “c” key._

_“I’m not sorry,” Lup had said stubbornly, her jaw set in the face of his silence. The blue light from her computer screen had made all the angles of her face look even sharper. “I’ll start applying for jobs at other universities tomorrow if that’s what you want, but I’m not sorry.”_

_“No,” he’d replied softly, reaching for her hand reflexively. Bitten fingernails, chipped red polish, soft and small. “That’s not what I want.”_

“If you ever ask me that and the answer is no, it’s time to pull the plug on ol’ Barry.” She laughed, that surprised, delighted sound that he never got tired of.

“Take me to bed, then, stud.”

“Then I really _will_ throw out my back.” With another exaggerated pout, she hopped down from the counter and led the way to the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way. He almost tripped on her balled-up cardigan. When he got to the bedroom, she was struggling with the zipper on the back of her dress.

“Can you get this for me?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“Leave it on,” he replied, almost surprising himself. She raised her eyebrows mischievously. 

“Your wish is my command, babe.” He grabbed her around the waist and pressed his chest against her back, kissing the long line of her neck, her bare shoulder, lightly freckled, rutting self-indulgently against the curve of her ass. He rubbed his thumb back and forth over her nipple through the thin fabric of her dress until it hardened, then rolled it between his fingers lightly. His other hand crept under the hem of her skirt, rubbing its way up her inner thigh; he traced the outline of her vulva through the lace, enough pressure to wind her up but not enough to give her any relief. Lup made a feline noise of impatience and twisted away from him. Then her nimble fingers were unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants, helping him pull them off. He pulled his shirt off over his head, almost falling over again in the dark with his pants around his ankles. Once he had freed himself from his clothes, she gave him a shove toward the bed; he laid down obediently, propping his head up on two pillows, as she wiggled deftly out of her underwear. She climbed on top of him, one knee planted on either side of his head.

“Ready?” Barry nodded. She smiled fondly, took his glasses off for him, and set them on the bedside table before she sank down, her skirt falling over his face. He held both of her thighs, tugging her within reach. She hardly needed warming up, but he started with kitten licks anyway, short, light passes of his tongue over her hood that gradually increased in pressure until the muscles in her legs began to shiver almost imperceptibly.

She pulled up her skirt so that she could see his eyes. “Tap my leg three times if you can’t breathe.” Then he was in the dark again with nothing but suffocating heat, the smell of arousal, the sound of his own muffled breath. He massaged her thighs, grounding himself with the familiar feeling of her smooth skin against his palms. She let him have control for a little longer, choosing where to administer his attentions, how much, how long, how hard. He traced circles around her clit with the tip of his tongue, interspersed with flat passes over her entrance. When he pressed it past the ring of muscle, he heard her sigh, felt a fresh wave of wet heat against his face. One of the advantages of having a partner twenty years her senior was that he’d had plenty of extra time to work on his technique, and Barry was very much a perfectionist, both in the lab and in the bedroom.

He put his lips to work, gently sealing around her clit and sucking. With a high, surprised moan, the last strength in her legs gave out, and she rode his face hard. He let her grind herself against his mouth, stealing shallow breaths through his nose. He felt her muscles fluttering right before she stilled, gasping, and came hard. He could picture her face, her eyes squeezed closed, her mouth open, her arms rigid where she was undoubtedly holding white-knuckled onto the headboard. It made him ache. He let her stay there before a moment before his need for oxygen became more of a priority than her pleasure. He tapped her thigh, and she immediately lifted off his face and swung her legs over to the same side, scooting back so that she could look at him.

“You okay?” Lup asked breathlessly. 

“Yeah.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling. She smiled back, pulling at the band of his boxers. She had lost none of her energy. With his help, she pulled them off and tossed them away. She wrapped her hand around him, gave him a few hard strokes, and then straddled his hips, pressing the tip of his dick to her slicked lips. Before he could react, she took him to the hilt. It was too much all at once, a full-body shock that felt like being pushed into a bonfire. His mouth flew open, but no sound came out. He took told of her hips, his thumbs pressing into her hipbones over her dress, and she hummed, beginning to move back in forth in a rhythmic roll. It was a more manageable pleasure, curling and soft like smoke. She was a vision in a rumpled floral sun dress and a ruined French braid, eyes bright, watching his face with a small, curious smile on her lips as she fucked him.

“You wanna see?” she asked coquettishly, pulling her skirt up over her thighs, leaning back to give him a good view of his cock sliding in and out of her. He groaned and let his head fall back against the pillow, closing his eyes. With a soft laugh, she reached behind her and cupped his balls, massaging them gently. She knew exactly what she was doing to him. She shifted her weight forward again, changing the angle, and used her leverage to move in hard, long, ruthless strokes, letting her forehead rest against his between languid kisses. He slid his hands up the curves of her waist, down to her ass, letting out a gravelly noise midway between a grunt and a groan.

“You’re gonna make me come,” he said, opening his eyes. That grin again. She leaned down close to his ear with an absolutely cruel snap of her hips.

“My legs are getting really, really tired,” she whispered. Barry laughed, caught off guard.

“Sorry, beautiful. Let’s switch.” She climbed off and settled back against the pillows. He grabbed an extra and slid it underneath her hips. She reached out for him as rearranged himself on top of her.

“Comfortable?” he asked. She nodded. He kissed her, pressing into her again, setting a slow pace that he was sure was torture for both of them.

“Oh, now you’re gonna tease me?” she murmured, narrowing her eyes playfully. “Hurry up and fuck me.”

“I _am_ fucking you,” he replied, huffing a laugh when she scowled. That expression disappeared when he thrust into her deep; he knew it was the right angle to hit her in just the right spot. Her eyes fluttered, her breasts straining against the fabric of her dress as she breathed hard and fast. Words bubbled up in the back of his throat, expressions of wonder and disbelief and love, but there was no way to phrase any of it just then. He kissed her lips tenderly, but she was hardly in the same lovesick mood. She nipped at him. 

“You’re not a nice man.” She bucked upwards weakly, and he shook his head, burying his face in her neck. The flyaway, sweaty blonde curls that were escaping her braid tickled his nose. Her nails dug into his bare back as he continued to rock into her slowly. “Barry.” 

“Touch yourself for me,” he instructed. Immediately, she snaked a hand between them and began to swirl her fingers around her clit. The high, breathy noises that fell from her mouth every time he thrust made it difficult to hold himself together, but Barry did his best. He felt it come over her slowly as he mumbled half-coherent encouragements into her skin, her body stiffening, her breath catching, and finally, the long, luxurious reward for her long climb. She cried out as her muscles contracted around him. He picked up the pace, short, sharp thrusts that made his toes curl. With a desperate noise of his own, he began to move more erratically, pumping hard until he followed her over the edge.

He rolled off of her, sweaty and disheveled. She immediately curled into his side, pressed her nose against his skin, and inhaled deeply.

“Are you sniffing me again?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Maybe. Depends. Do you like it?”

“I’m beginning to think I do.” 

She laughed. “Get this fucking sticky dress off me.” He helped her out of her sundress, which she tossed haphazardly onto the floor before arranging herself against his side again, her head pillowed on his chest, one of her legs hitched up around his waist. He ran his fingertips lightly along her arm, and she shivered pleasantly, goosebumps rising on her skin. He kissed the top of her head.

“The perfect Sunday. Brunch, multiple orgasms, nap.”

“No naps,” he said as sternly as he could manage. “I have work to do.”

“I have a diamond ring right here that says you have to do whatever I want.” She held up her left hand, wiggling her fingers so that her engagement ring sparkled in the afternoon light. She had cried _when he’d given her that ring. Lup never cried. It was so outside of the norm for her that it had actually scared him. It hadn’t been the misty-eyed sniffling you saw in movies during proposals; she’d sat down heavily and full-body sobbed. Of course, he had knelt down in front of her, told her softly that it didn’t matter if she wanted to say no, if she wasn’t ready, if she wanted to break things off completely. He would understand. He just wanted her to be happy._

_“Are you fucking crazy?” she’d gulped, thrusting out her left hand. “Put it on me, idiot.”_

“Hmm. I don’t remember getting that engraved on it.”

“You didn’t have to. It was implied.” She ran her fingers through the hair on his chest, fingernails scraping lightly against his skin. “If you don’t nap with me, I’ll have to find someone else in need of a hot young assistant to keep their bed warm.”

“Can’t have that,” he murmured, smiling. They both knew he was going to give in; it was damn near impossible to say no to her. He pulled the blankets around them. She hummed contentedly at having gotten her way yet again. They stayed that way for a few minutes, drifting fast toward sleep.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you, too.” Barry came to the same conclusion that he always came to when he forced himself to think things through logically. He would be with her as long as it made both of them happy. How much time they had together, which experiences they had shared and which ones they hadn’t, whether or not he was going to have to start stocking up on Viagra in ten years or so…it was irrelevant, like many of the things he worried about were. Lup was the smartest person he had ever met, and even if her risk-reward analyses weren’t quite as airtight as his were, he had to trust that she knew what she wanted: this. Peace, with her tucked into the crook of his arm in their colorful little bedroom, all wants and needs met for the moment. What everyone was looking for in their lifetime. No small miracle.


End file.
